


An Empty Hearse

by ubertrash



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Protective Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:24:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9913091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubertrash/pseuds/ubertrash
Summary: Potential conversation that could have taken place between John and Mycroft after Sherlock returned. Probably not Canon-compliant.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted some good ol' protective Mycroft so I wrote this (first time I've ever really written for a fandom).

Whenever Mycroft wishes to speak to John, it usually involves an anonymous phonecall and a nondescript black car. Not today, however; Mycroft has politely invited John to his office.

John, at first, was indecisive. It’s about Sherlock, no doubt, and John _really_ wants nothing to do with Sherlock right now. And yet, John feels there may be something particularly pressing about this meeting. Mycroft is being - for once - decent, allowing John to decide for himself if he wants to be involved (opposed to, you know, kidnapping John and forcing him into a conversation). 

Clearly, the situation is delicate. John wonders if this was Sherlock’s idea. He wonders if Sherlock knows they are meeting at all. 

He tells himself to stop thinking about Sherlock. 

So, John reasons, since Mycroft is being so nice, there’s clearly something wrong. He’s willing to hear him out, and, if nothing else, get Mycroft off his back. 

(He is _not_ doing this for Sherlock. He doesn’t want to know how Sherlock is. He is utterly uninterested in Sherlock Holmes.)

John holds himself with a cold, military composure when he is led into Mycroft’s office. He is aware that Mycroft will see straight through him, but he wants to put effort into seeming in control, at the very least. Perhaps Mycroft will respect him for that. Probably not.

John is only _slightly_ perturbed to see how tired Mycroft is. There are dark circles under his eyes, his hair slightly unkempt, and his clothes are wrinkled. He sits up quickly when John enters the room.

“Ah, Doctor Watson. I am so very glad you decided to join me”.

Mycroft's assistant shuts the door behind him.

John gives a curt “Yep”, and stares Mycroft down, fists clenched at his sides. 

Mycroft regards him with a scrutinising gaze, narrowing his eyes. _Deducing, probably._ John doesn’t give a shit about his deductions. 

“Please, sit down”

“No”

Mycroft forces out a snide smile, sitting back in his chair. 

“I’ve no doubt you’ve guessed what this meeting is about.”

John says nothing. They stare at each other for a long moment. 

“John…”. There is a long, agonising pause. Mycroft keeps his eyes down. He speaks slowly. “Things are…more difficult than expected”

John is quiet. He raises his eyebrows when Mycroft refuses to elaborate.

Mycroft huffs, shifting in his seat, clearly irritated. _Good_ , John thinks. “Sherlock has been through a lot whilst he was away.”

_Dead_ , John thinks. _While he was dead._

“I’m afraid his mission has taken quite a toll.”

“He looked fine when I saw him.”

“Hm, yes, until you tried to beat his face in.”, Mycroft sneers. 

John looks away. He tries very hard not to feel guilty. _He deserved it._  

Mycroft continues, “Either way, his injuries are not purely physical. I beleive he also has some…mental damage”

He fixes John with a knowing look. _PTSD. Anxiety. Depression. Suicidal thoughts. You know the drill._

John clenches his jaw.

Mycroft stands, bracing himself on his desk. “John, I understand that his departure had quite an effect on you-”

“Oh, really? Do you now? Didn’t realise you were capable of understanding emotions”

Mycroft gives him that tight smile again. He begins “Doctor Watson-” but John cuts him off. 

“No, you know what? Sod this. Sod - all of this. I don’t care what his ‘mental state’ is. It’s his own doing, it’s his own bloody fault if he got hurt. He doesn’t get to just waltz back in here like-”

Mycroft suddenly slams his fist on the desk. “ _Doctor Watson!_ " 

John stills, his words dying in his throat. 

Mycroft’s voice is a low hiss; "What my brother went through in those two years is more horrific than you could possibly imagine. Never mind that pathetic little war you fought in; Sherlock alone has suffered more than all the men on your battlefield. He was beaten, tortured. _Assaulted_. Starved. Deprived of sleep for weeks on end. Most men would have perished after mere days under such conditions. And yet you have the audacity to stand here and patronise him. To shun him.” 

He spits the words with such venom that John feels a physical sting. 

“He did this for you, Doctor Watson. He would have done far more, I’m certain. He would have died for you, and he still would, regardless of how little you deserve it. I’ve no idea what he sees in you,”

Mycroft swallows, regaining some composure.

“But for his sake, I am asking you to talk to him. Make amends. No one else seems to get through to him these days." 

 John shifts, lifting his head in defiance. Yes, Sherlock may have suffered for him, but what Sherlock did to him was wrong. Whatever kind of self-assured redemption Sherlock went through is none of his concern. 

 "Yes, well, that is all very touching, but I still don’t-" 

Mycroft cuts him off again. ” _John_! Don’t you understand? I always knew you were an idiot, but this? He… _cares_ about you, John. God help him but he does, and he is ruined without you there to help him. He has died for you, many times over and in many different ways, so the very least you can do is be there for him when he needs you. Surely that’s the least you can offer!“

John feels sick. The guilt has settled deep in John’s gut but he forces himself to ignore it. He realises that this isn’t just about him.

 "Why can’t you do it, hm? His big brother not good enough?" 

 Mycroft inhales slowly, fixing his eyes on John. All at once the anger seems to have drained from his body. Clearly John has struck some sort of nerve.

"No. No, I am not. I have been there to pull him back from the brink many times before, but there are some things…some things that he will not let me do. Which I cannot do.”

 There is a sadness in his eyes as he circles the desk to stand in front of John.

 "Doctor Watson, you are special to him. He sees something in you which he has never seen in anyone or anything else. He feels…deeply for you. He trusts you unequivocally. I am confident that you are the only person he will listen to, and thus the only person who can help him. So, I am here to ask you, kindly: will you help?“ 

 John grinds his teeth. He is angry. He is so, so angry with Sherlock. He feels deeply betrayed, and deeply hurt. He feels like Sherlock deserves nothing from him.

 And yet…he knows that Mycroft is right (as always). His words make John’s heart ache. He still cares about Sherlock, despite everything. _God damn him._ He isn’t letting himself think too carefully about what Sherlock has put himself through, for him. But he feels the guilt now, pressing on him like a weight, cutting through the anger and the sadness and the grief. Sherlock needs him, and he is not there. John needed Sherlock, just as Sherlock was not there for him. It won’t fix anything to continue this game. 

 He stands to attention, body stiff. He says, "I’ll think about it” and swiftly turns to leave, unable to bear another minute in this God-forsaken room with Sherlock’s manipulative, condecending brother. 

He is just through the door when Mycroft calls after him, “Doctor Watson?”.

 John stills, back turned, waiting.  

 "Thank you.” A long pause. “Please look after him.”

John takes a deep breath. Begrudgingly, he knows that he will.


End file.
